


Ashes Crumble Down

by Katseester



Category: Bastion
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid wonders what things might have been like, had things been different. But, then again, things aren't different, and this is what he's stuck with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes Crumble Down

**Author's Note:**

> Bastion was a good game.

He sometimes wonders at just how much things have changed. Since the fire, the smoke, and everything falling down around him. Since the Calamity.

Since he woke up covered in soot and burns, and began to coat his hands with sweat and grime and the stink of death.

Since he found Zulf, gazing morosely up at the only thing that hadn't changed since this hell began.

Since he found Zia; followed the melodic strains until he stumbled across a lonely girl with nothing left to lose.

There was a girl he thought he might fancy, once, before the Calamity. She was always smiling and wore a pretty little crystal barrette in her hair that glimmered in the sunlight. She's nothing but ash now; crumbled at the slightest touch, blown away somewhere else, but that somewhere else isn't _here_ so he figures it's better than the alternative. He keeps the clip tucked away, safe.

Zia has been tending a small flower garden between the distillery and the forge, cultivating yellows and reds and oranges and blues, and sometimes the kid just sits beside it to smell something familiar.

She catches him there, more than once, but never says anything. Just sits down beside him and hums, and her voice is sweet like the honey his mother used to spoon into his milk when he was small.

The thought of his mother upsets him more than he lets on.

The next time she finds him next to the garden she winds flowers into his hair, the oranges and the reds, humming and smiling softly, smoothing his fringe against his forehead in a soothing motion that only makes him more homesick.

She pulls him into her chest, murmuring a lullaby, and rubs circles on his back until he can't cry anymore. Presses soft, feather-light kisses to the crown of his head until he stops shaking.

Zulf says he likes the flowers, thinks they suit him. He pats the kid on the head, ruffles his hair, mindful of the floral decorations. His hand lingers a second too long, burns the tip of the kid's ear red-hot where it brushes when he pulls it back.

He doesn't know if Zulf is meaning to be insulting or sincere, so he socks him lightly in the arm just the same.

The next day he finds Zulf with blue flowers in his hair and doesn't laugh, but says he likes them. They match his skirt.

Zulf smiles at this, wry and amused, quirking an eyebrow. The kid thinks that maybe this is the first time he's seen Zulf smile since...since. A real smile, not just one forced out of politeness. He fidgets with a burnt patch on his sleeve under the kid's insistent stare, suddenly shy. Pale face tinged the lightest pink, smiling that small smile down at his hands. 

It leaves the kid feeling weird and mixed up inside so he leaves to the forge to sharpen his sword, tighten the draw on his bow, anything to distract from the cloudy thoughts miring his brain in confusion.

He tries to join Zulf in the kitchen but is amazingly horrid at all things cooking; after almost slicing his finger off Zulf gently pries the knife from his fingers, chuckling softly, and asks him to check on the soup for that evening. Some old Ura recipe that Zulf can't remember half the ingredients for, and for those that he does they more likely than not don't have, but since he's the one making it the kid figures it'll be alright.

He kisses Zulf that night when they're just about ready to turn in; Zia has nodded off onto Rucks' shoulder on the other side of the fire and Rucks hasn't moved in the past half hour, hunched over as he is and occasionally emitting a grunting snore.

Zulf is hesitant at first, reluctant to respond, but then his hands are in the kid's hair, on his neck, mouth scorching hot on his.

Zulf kisses with the desperation of a man who has lost everything, who might lose everything again.

Zia smiles at them in the morning when they emerge from the same tent, something devious and knowing in her eyes, and it's not even noon before they're wearing strings of red flowers around their necks.

At night Zulf has a habit of holding him close, tucking him in toward himself and curling around him, and the kid would be indignant if it didn't feel so nice. Sometimes before Zulf drifts off he murmurs things into the kid's hair; stories about home and the people he once knew, things he used to enjoy doing, food he used to eat. Sometimes he says nothing at all, just breathes quiet and soft until his grip loosens a bit and he starts snoring a little kitten snore that's distracting enough to chase sleep away for a little while but not annoying enough to elbow him in the stomach for.

Sometimes the kid just watches Zulf's face as he sleeps; counts the light freckles spattered across Zulf's nose as he draws in deep breaths that puff across his face and ruffle his hair.

He likes to come up from behind and envelop the kid in an embrace that leaves him feeling like he's wrapped in a cocoon, layers upon layers of colourful Ura clothing shifting against him as Zulf makes himself comfortable, rests his chin upon the kid's shoulder, breathes a sigh of contentment.

He says the kid smells like flowers, but he can't really help it; Zia's gotten to him again, woven him a wreathe of blue and yellow that clashes horribly with his complexion. But she giggled mischievously when she gave it to him and he couldn't really refuse anyway.

Zulf smells like spices and the smoke from his pipe most times. The kid likes it; it's earthy and raw and _him_.

He thinks that maybe things like this will really be alright, with just the four of them and the Bastion. Thinks that maybe he's okay with it, all things considered. It can hardly get worse.

But, then again, he should have known better than to get his hopes up like that.

Because Zia is missing, and Zulf is missing, and Rucks can barely catch the breath to tell him where.

He finds Zia. Hugs her, holds her close and rubs circles into her back until she pulls away and touches his cheek, smiling sadly. He notices then that she's crying, but she turns her face before he can reach out; backs away, shaking her head.

And when he finds Zulf he...well. He ignores the sting of betrayal pulsing through his chest that is telling him, urging him, _egging_ him to leave Zulf behind, and heaves him up over his shoulders. The ground beneath him is far too red.

He returns to the Bastion, filthy and stinking and exhausted, and he has time to drop Zulf unceremoniously to the ground before collapsing himself, breathing deep and ragged, staring at the sky until the stars stop spinning.

He's forced to make a decision that comes far too easily.

At first the kid is afraid Zulf actually did die on him, but he finds him holed up in Zia's tent as she changes his bandages, humming quietly to herself. She seems much happier these days.

Zulf doesn't say anything, doesn't even meet his eyes, and the kid's glad he doesn't because while he doesn't know how hard he can hit right now he's still pretty sure he could knock Zulf out.

He tries to keep himself busy during the day; Rucks waves away any offers of assistance on piloting the Bastion and there's not much else to do besides. Zia has taken over kitchen duties in the absence of Zulf's presence, and although the kid tries his hand again in hopes of having miraculously improved it proves futile; Zia waves him out of the kitchen within minutes with a laugh and a smile and there's nothing left but to deposit himself between the forge and distillery and look at the sad, trampled mess of flowers.

He thinks the purple ones would have looked nice wound into Zia's hair.

Inevitably he ends up back inside Zia's tent. He watches Zulf sleep - watches the blue and purple and yellow and green mottled mess just around his left eye, the tight bandaging around his left arm and the sling winding its way up around his neck, the way he looks disturbed, even while slumbering. Watching Zulf tugs at something painfully within him, and when Zia quite literally stumbles upon him, slumped up against the opening to her tent as he is, she looks so exhausted and sad that that something snaps and he ends up crying right there on the ground.

Zia's arms are around him in an instant, her hands are in his hair and around his back and she's whispering kind, soft words to him and she smells like the pungent yellow paste that she has to keep applying to Zulf's wounds lest they fester.

The kid wants her to stop, wants to be the one to comfort her instead; she must be so tired, so tired after everything they've been through and everything they're going through now, but she just holds him closer and hums a sweet melody until the sobs fade into hiccups and then into silence.

He doesn't realize he's woken Zulf until there's a sharp intake of breath and a stifled curse, and then Zia is berating him and gently but firmly lying him back down and the kid almost misses the way her cheeks are shining in the confusion.

Rucks pulls out an old, battered guitar that night, and although he doesn't know how to play it the way he sits and plucks out notes is comforting, in a way. The little pecker the kid found so long ago seems to have imprinted on Zia, and it's a miracle the thing survived through everything, but the kid's glad it did. It keeps close to her now more than ever, and she smiles fondly down at it as she strokes the crest of its head.

He starts helping Zia with the treating of Zulf's injuries. The air between them is tense at first, full of held silence and averted gazes, but somewhere between the kid's fingers smearing that pungent cream onto the jagged cut along Zulf's cheek and taping a fresh medical pad into place Zulf's free hand has clenched into a fist and he's biting his lip as tears well up in his eyes and leak onto the pillow below him.

Zulf tries to say something past the lump in his throat, but it soon becomes apparent that he's too overcome to get past the first syllable. Instead he reaches out and pulls the kid down until his forehead is resting against his chest and lets the kid feel through his shuddering breaths what he cannot say.

The kid thinks that things between them might be okay, a little bit.

He tries to distract himself through the days when he's not sitting beside Zulf and telling him to stop squirming around with his sling, sets himself to cleaning up the mess in the scattered buildings. It helps. He finds the squirt hiding behind a few boxes in the distillery, and it seems pleased to see him, squeaking excitedly and bobbing around him in circles, nuzzling right up against his hand until he gives in and pets it.

He brings the little creature to Zulf, who by this point is well enough to sit up and take solid food. Zulf's face breaks out into what is the first smile the kid has seen since he was dragged back to the Bastion, and although it is small and reserved it is very real, and it makes the kid's chest feel light like a sip of Lifewine is coursing through his veins. The kid is about to take his leave, let the two alone to reconcile, but Zulf grabs onto his wrist before he can, draws him back and close enough that the kid can see the freckles across his nose under his pale skin. He gives the kid a chance to back out, hesitates a moment and loosens his grip in just the slightest, but the kid presses forward instead and kisses him.

Zulf's mouth is soft and warm and exactly how he remembers, but the way Zulf kisses him now is no longer full of that desperation born of loneliness from before.

Zia doesn't say anything when she finds him curled up on the ground next to Zulf's bedroll; she leaves the tent without a word, and when she returns her arms are full of extra bedding procured from god knows where. The kid helps her set it out and Zulf looks like he would like to help too, but Zia gives him a look and he demures. They all lie together that night, and the kid falls asleep with their hands in his and he thinks it might be the first time he's felt happy in a while.


End file.
